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I could never be a restaurant reviewer. At least not the kind that goes in, acts all diffident, then slams the place as soon as they get into the car with their laptop. I named this blog quickly and without much thought--In Praise of Leftovers--but more and more, it seems fitting that "praise" would be in there. I really, really like to praise things--people, cafés, elementary schools--so I don't think The Seattle Times will be offering me a job as a restaurant reviewer anytime soon. There are plenty of things that get under my skin (What? Sarah's opinionated?!) but I find it's not that gratifying to pontificate about them.

Café Presse gets the praise today. I've been a regular there since they opened and feel so lucky to live in the city whenever I go. Some praiseworthy things about Presse:

Magazine rack. How I love magazines. More than life itself sometimes.

Giant subway clock.

Croque Monsieur, each bite dipped in lots and lots of Dijon.

Little orange mustard pots on every table.

Ceramic pitchers of wine.

Friendliest of friendly waitstaff, refilling my coffee while I loiter forever in the morning.

Mussels and frites at night, sitting at the bar with Yancey and looking for people we know.

Students from neighboring Seattle University--all hipster and smart, making you feel like your real life is about to start.

Open from 7am to 1 am every day.

Free wireless.

Gallons of soft light pouring through the front windows, allowing for a few good photographs.